


Hell for the Holidays

by canadduh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Fluff, Gifts, Holidays, M/M, Minor Amelia Novak/Jimmy Novak, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Meg Masters, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Pre-Slash, SPN Holiday Mixtape, SPN Holiday Mixtape 2018, Terribly Described Rooms, implied cheating but not really, miscommunication is the true Grinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadduh/pseuds/canadduh
Summary: Years ago, Castiel and Dean were best friends. Until they weren’t. Now they’re stuck together in Hell for the holidays.“You’re the one who walked away, Castiel,”“I’ve been so angry with you for so long, Dean. When- When Jimmy told me what happened it broke my heart. I was in love with you.”





	Hell for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to my beta wargurl83 (Check out her works!)

He can’t say that he’s surprised, not really.

That he would end up trapped inside a cabin with Castiel just outside of Hell, Michigan.

Fate had always had it out for him, he was sure of it now more than ever.

Dean’s not upset about this, not really, he got over Castiel years ago, back in college when Castiel had friggin’ ghosted him after a drunken kiss. One they were both guilty of. Dean had thought there’d been sparks between them, clearly, Dean had thought wrong.

And now here he was, in Hell, with Castiel fucking Novak glaring at him like this had been his fault. Like it wasn’t both their friend’s faults that they were snowed in, without cell service, or a working car. Fucking Meg had slashed the Impala’s tires.

He was contemplating murder for that.

“So,” Dean ventures when the silence gets to be too much for him to handle.

Castiel continues to glower at him and Dean sighs, running a hand down his face. He considers Castiel for a moment before standing and moving to the kitchen, forever grateful that the cabin does not have an open floor plan.

He likes the rustic charm of the place and pauses to admire the woodwork in the kitchen. The room had clearly been remodeled recently and Dean whistled at the sight of the gas range stove, all state of the art and shining silver before he started rifling through the cupboards looking for something to eat.

Halfway through preparing some chicken in a lemon-basil sauce, a thought occurs to him.

“Any allergies?” He asks, stepping into the living room to find Castiel on the couch, reading one of the many books littered throughout the room. He snorts at Castiel’s incredulous look, “I like cooking and it’d be rather dickish of me to make myself food and not you.”

“I-” Castiel hesitates for a moment, “no. No allergies, thank you.”

Dean grins, calls a “no problem” over his shoulder, and returns to the kitchen to check the potatoes he’d chopped and thrown in the oven with the chicken.

He means it when he says he was over Castiel and had been for years. That doesn’t mean, however, that he’s happy to be stuck here with the dude. The two times Dean has seen Castiel in the past fourteen years the guy had been a grade-A douche.

It seems like this time wouldn’t be any different. The only problem is that they’re stuck here together and Dean would rather not have to live with Castiel’s glares for the foreseeable future.

When the food is ready Dean brings two plates out to the living room and hands one to Cas. He figures it will be less awkward for them to eat here than if they were to use the small dining room that was just off the kitchen in the other direction.

He settles into the plaid armchair by the fireplace with a sigh and digs into his food, holding back a moan at the burst of flavor. He ignores Castiel while he eats and appreciates that Castiel doesn’t try to speak throughout the meal, or even once they’re both finished.

Instead, the man picks up both their plates and heads into the kitchen to do the dishes. Dean calls his thanks before standing to give himself a tour of the rest of the cabin. The living room was rather large, with a sofa and two armchairs sitting in front of a stone fireplace. A copper bucket holds what Dean hopes is enough wood to last for a couple of days.

The walls of the cabin are dark wood panels that run horizontal to the floor. The floor itself is a well cared for dark red carpet that’s spongy under Dean’s socked feet. The dark plaid armchairs and black sofa fit the room surprisingly well.

Around the room, there are strings of icicle lights giving the room a festive feel. In the corner sits a Christmas tree, decorated with fake snow and tasteful ornaments. The smell calms something in Dean and he studies the tree for a minute or two before moving on to the rest of the cabin.

The bathroom had the same rustic charm as the rest of the cabin that Dean had seen. The dark wood seemed to flow from ceiling to floor, only interrupted by a red bath mat right outside the rock tiled shower. The toilet seat is the same wood as the floor which pulls a chuckle out of Dean.

There’s a double sink to the right of the door with the same rocks making up the counter as the shower. Dean’s surprised to find they are smooth when he rests his hand against it. The faucets are also a dark wood, which doesn’t really surprise Dean.

He moves down the hallway and opens one of the two doors expecting to find a bedroom. He winces at the small laundry room; light wood that contrasts sharply with the rest of the cabin but still manages to fit in.

Dean presses his lips into a thin line before moving on to the last door. He opens it to find what is probably the nicest bedroom he’s seen in his entire life. His eyes are immediately drawn to the skylight, a set of two glass panels near where the wall and ceiling intersect

The bed is large, easily a king-sized monster of a thing. It’s made neatly with cream-colored sheets and a dark red comforter. There are at least six pillows, four regular and two winter-themed throws. The dresser below the skylight is a dark wood with white handles that stand out starkly. The wood floor is covered in a white fur that Dean thinks is supposed to imitate a polar bear.

He sits on the bed, pleased to find that it’s memory foam and observes the rest of the room. On the wall behind the bed, there’s a circular frame made of a grey wood that houses many different sizes of kindling, all organized neatly. The wall above the dresser has four pictures on wood paneling, a black fox on white wood, a white deer on black wood, a black moose on white wood and finally a white bear on black wood.

The far wall has a set of french doors which lead out onto a balcony. Dean steps out of the room and finds himself transported to a winter wonderland. The forest is covered in white and he marvels at the reflection of the soft cabin lights off the snow. Dean has spent most of his life in the south and seeing snow is always a novelty for him.

The balcony isn’t large but it’s comfortable with an iron fireplace surrounded by comfy looking chairs. The L-shape of the cabin manages to block most of the wind so while there is a chill in the air it's not sharp enough to make Dean shiver.

“There’s only one bed.”

He hadn’t realized how long he had been outside until the low voice cuts into his peaceful reverie. He tries not to be annoyed as he shuts the doors behind him before looking up at Castiel, who is already dressed in dark blue plaid pajamas.

“I can take the couch,” Dean offers after taking a deep breath, “and we can rotate each night so that neither of us gets really bad back pain or something.”

“It’s a big bed,” Castiel hedges after a moment of consideration.

Dean can picture Charlie screaming her head off because this has started to become just like a fanfic. He fake-punches fake-Charlie as he regards Castiel quietly.

During college, Castiel was always reserved to the point where Dean had first written him off as stuck up. After a homophobic comment by a shared psychology professor Dean’s misconceptions had been squashed, and he and Castiel were quick friends, working their way towards something more.

Which had ended just as quickly but Dean pushes that out of his head as well.

Castiel is squinting at Dean now, obviously waiting for a response but Dean isn’t sure how he feels about this. What Castiel had done had hurt him, and Dean knows himself well enough to know that he would be setting himself up for disappointment again if he allows himself to get any closer to Castiel than their forced confinement has already brought them.

“Can we, uh, just do the couch thing?” Dean asks after a few more moments of silence, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in an almost unconscious gesture. He can’t be vulnerable again. “Or you can just have the bed, they said it was only gonna be a week.”

Castiel shrugs before accepting Dean’s terms. Dean huffs and leaves the room, patting Castiel on the shoulder as he passes, ignoring the tension that was there. Castiel was allowed to have his hang ups but Dean was not going to let them bother him.

Dean wakes first in the morning, and after a quick shower, he steps outside to double check that the Impala was, indeed, benched for the time being.

Good lord was he pissed at Meg.

And Charlie.

But mostly Meg.

He takes the time to clean the inside of his car, not that it was really messy but he needs to be out of the cabin. He reorganizes the gifts he has for Sam, Eileen, and his niece Baby Mary in the trunk as he cursed Meg in his head again.

This was supposed to be a quick trip for Dean on his way to Toronto to meet up with his family for the holidays. Charlie had begged Dean to help her friend with the heating in their cabin, since Dean could do that, and was going to pay him healthily for it.

Dean had planned to put the money into Baby Mary’s savings account as an extra Christmas present for the two-year-old. Now he was in Hell with Castiel, of all the seven fucking billion people on earth.

Yeah, Dean really was contemplating murder. Sam would probably help him hide the body. 

When Dean finishes he washes up in the bathroom and goes to the kitchen, surprised to find Castiel already there. The other man is still as a statue, covered in flour and Dean has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t break out into laughter.

“What’cha, uh, What’cha making there?” Dean asks after a moment, thoroughly confused by the man’s stillness.

“It was supposed to be pizza,” Castiel replies sullenly, “but the flour exploded.”

“I can see that,” Dean does laugh this time before reaching for the broom and stepping gingerly into the room, “why don’t you go shower and I’ll get this cleaned up?”

Castiel’s head snaps over so he can look at Dean, his eyes narrowed like he was prepared for a fight. Dean’s own eyes widened and he took a step back, surprised by the reaction.

“Or not?” Dean says, confused, his brows furrowing and something like anger sparking in his chest.

Dean was used to things being awkward with Castiel, he was used to Castiel not talking to him the two times they’d gotten together with Meg and Charlie for a game night. But this? This open hostility was new and it was downright startling.

Next thing Dean knows Castiel is pushing past him into the hall. Dean looks at the Castiel-sized flour-colored handprint on his left arm before shaking his head and cleaning up the mess Cas had made.

Once he’s done with that Dean makes the pizza that Castiel had been intending to make. He’s finishing his third piece when the bedroom door opens and the shuffling of feet permeates the quiet cabin.

“I- I apologize, Dean,” Castiel says from where he’s standing in the hall, staring at his feet, “that was uncalled for.”

“Uh,” Dean says smartly, “it’s okay? I guess?”

Dean doesn’t have a manual for interacting with Castiel Novak. There’s nothing else he can say and when Castiel nods in quiet acceptance Dean lets out a relieved breath and tries not to watch the man move into the kitchen.

While Castiel eats his dinner Dean finds a copy of Die Hard and sets up the TV for the movie. He’s not really talking to Castiel when he goes on about how this movie is a classic but if Castiel listens it’s neither man’s fault.

By the time dinner rolls around they’ve moved on from Die Hard and are now watching Star Wars Episode IV. Dean was offended that Castiel hadn’t seen the movies, cause really, who hadn’t, and had set out on a mission to educate the man. If only to keep himself entertained.

They clean up the living room once the movie is over and Castiel disappears into the bedroom while Dean takes a shower. He makes sure not to use up all the hot water, as much as he’s tempted to.

Dean tells the other man good night when they pass in the hallway before he decides to do some laundry, knowing he doesn’t have enough clothes for the next day.

He’s not sure how they got there but Castiel is glaring Dean down in the living room while Dean stands in his boxers and a t-shirt. If it weren’t for the fact that Dean was incredibly pissed then he’d probably be turned on by the heat in the other man’s eyes.

A misconception about Dean Winchester is that he yells when he’s angry. He’s not sure where people got this from, or how he knows this, but it’s the farthest thing from the truth. When Dean Winchester is angry he’s quiet. He doesn’t make eye contact. In the middle of a fight, especially this one, he refuses to give any sort of reaction.

That’s not to say he doesn’t yell. He’ll yell when he’s frustrated, he’ll yell when he’s scared, he’ll yell to hide any plethora of emotions. But anger is not something that makes him blow up. Anger freezes him.

“You’re the one who walked away, Castiel,” Dean says after Castiel makes a comment about how Dean can’t even hold down a relationship and how Dean is a ginormous assbutt- whatever that means. There’s a pause in the other man’s breathing, like maybe if he holds his breath long enough Dean will disappear.

“You’re the one who kissed my brother!” Castiel yells, his voice thundering through the cabin, settling like a heavy blanket over the two mean.

Dean looks up sharply at the other man. His chest is heaving even as he feels the blood drain from his face. There’s no way he heard that right, was there?

“Cas,” Dean says, hating how small his voice is, “you have a brother?”

“Yes, Dean,” Castiel snaps, his voice deeper than Dean’s ever heard it, “who you kissed if you’d be so kind as to recall.”

Oh, Fuck.

Dean’s going to be sick.

His hand snaps over his mouth as he runs to the bathroom, holding back the bile. Tears blur his vision as his knees slam into the ground and he throws up into the toilet.

There’s a cool hand on his neck and Dean resists the urge to lean into it as he rests his head on the toilet seat. He’s not sure he can look at Castiel considering the shame and guilt coursing through his stomach right now.

Castiel had a brother.

An identical twin.

And Dean had kissed him.

Never mind that Dean didn’t know any of this until today. Never mind that Dean had been wasted at the time. It didn’t change the fact that Castiel had thought Dean had cheated on him. With his own god damned brother.

He throws up a second time, nothing but bile, and groans at the taste of his own vomit and the pounding in his head.

“Dean,” Castiel's voice is softer than Dean heard it in years. He looks up to see the other man holding out a glass of water. Dean takes it and rinses his mouth out gratefully, spitting the water into the toilet before slumping down with his back against the wall.

“You,” Dean starts, his voice hoarse, as he watches Castiel flush the toilet and run a rag under the faucet. He coughs and tries again, “you thought I cheated on you?”

Castiel doesn’t look at Dean as he hands him the rag. He simply nods and goes about refilling the glass with water. If Dean hadn’t just thrown up twice he’d probably do it again at just the thought of cheating on anyone.

“Oh god,” Dean groans as his stomach rolls anyways, “Cas, I didn’t know. You never said-”

“I’m starting to get that,” Castiel says quietly, his voice wavering slightly, “I- I don’t know what to do now.”

They sit quietly in the bathroom, Dean nursing the cup of water from his spot on the floor while Castiel runs his hands through his hair.

“I just-” Castiel starts before taking a deep breath. He sits on the floor, leaning against the cabinet, and puts his head in his hands again, “I’ve been so angry with you for so long, Dean. When- when Jimmy told me what happened it broke my heart. I was in love with you.”

Dean can’t help but whimper at that.

“And to find out that you’d kissed my brother? I wasn’t even brave enough to be angry to your face,” Castiel shakes his head, “and to find out now, that you didn’t even know I had a brother? Dean, I-”

“I loved you too,” Dean interrupts, not sure he can handle the pain that’s lacing through Castiel’s voice right now, “and it hurt. It hurt so much when you stopped talking to me and I just didn’t know why. I thought it was the kiss,” Dean’s laugh is all kinds of self-deprecating, “I guess it was the kiss but not for the reasons I thought. And I was angry. God Cas, I almost went to your dorm to give you a piece of my mind but then I saw you- well now I’m thinking it was Jimmy- kissing this blonde chick outside the chemistry building and I figured if you were moving on then I should too.”

“Amelia,” Castiel supplies, “they’re married now.”

“Can we just, I don’t know? Start over?” Dean wonders as he glares at a fraying thread on the rag.

“I’d like that,” Castiel replies softly, offering Dean a small smile when the man gathers the courage he needs to make eye contact. 

The next two days pass quietly and peacefully. The boys take the time to catch up and relearn the things they thought they knew about each other.

Dean learns that Cas has two brothers but he and Jimmy don’t speak with Lucifer anymore. Dean kinda understands why that would be. They’re both not sure how it was that Dean didn’t know about Jimmy during college but they let it slide, considering most of their time was spent working on Psychology and they had reached the point where Cas had just assumed Dean knew.

Dean fills Cas in, letting him know about Sam and Eileen. He shows Cas pictures of Baby Mary and tells him about the college fund he’s already started for the genius baby.

They make lunch together on Christmas Eve, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with glasses of eggnog because they’re planning to utilize the ham in the freezer that night. Dean sets the meat out to thaw and then joins Cas on the balcony where a fire has been lit.

“I still can’t believe you have a brother,” Dean remarks when they’ve both finished their sandwiches and their mugs are sitting empty. “I can’t believe you have two brothers and you never talked about them.”

Cas chuckles, and even after all these years, the sound is still music to his ears. Dean watches the way Cas’ head falls back and his body shakes even though the sounds he makes are quiet.

“We were at the point in our friendship where I just assumed you knew,” Cas quickly defends, “I knew more about Sam than I knew about you at that point, I guess it never crossed my mind that I didn’t talk about myself all that much. I was definitely more guarded in college.”

“And considering Meg and Charlie, our respective best friends, have been dating since college I’m amazed I didn’t find out sooner,” Dean chuckles, “I’m still considering murder, Cas. Meg slashed my tires.”

Cas laughs again and Dean feels pride simmering in his stomach. There’s a small chance that Dean still has a crush on the other man, but he forces that aside and focuses on Cas’s response.

“Even I know that’s a cardinal sin,” Cas is still smiling and Dean feels warm all over.

Around mid-afternoon Dean starts on the ham while Castiel goes to his room to read. Dean’s considering making a pie when there’s a tentative knock on the countertop. Dean turns to see Castiel holding something behind his back, his body radiating nerves.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean asks, setting down the package of flour he was staring at and giving the other man his full attention.

“I uh- I made this for you.” Cas rushes the words out and thrusts what looks like a pile of brown fuzz at him.

Dean checks to make sure his hands are clean before taking the offering and figuring out that it was a chocolate brown scarf, soft to touch, and very well made. Dean looks up at Cas with wide eyes, not sure what to make of the gift.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Dean apologizes, “but this is friggin’ sweet man.”

Dean has never worn a scarf in his life but damn him if he’s not going to start now.

“That’s fine,” Cas assures, “it’s more of an apology gift than anything. I realize that I shouldn’t have shut you out as I did. I was angry and it was wrong of me to assume the worst. It wasn’t even like we were dating.”

Dean regards Cas for a moment before wrapping the scarf around his neck and opening his arms wide. He likes hugs, so sue him, and he can see that Cas needs one right now. Needs physical confirmation that they’re okay, that they can move forward.

Okay, so, maybe he wasn’t over Cas, Dean thinks as he holds the other man.

Hopefully, he never would be.

~End


End file.
